Lyn Cote (14 page)

With William asleep on her lap, Ellen sat on one side of Marta Bollinger and Mr. Lang sat on the other. Gunther sat on the other side of Ellen, then Marta’s three sons and finally Johann. People continued to gawk at the widow and her sons. Ellen wished people here would behave in a more mannerly way. Didn’t they know staring was impolite?

Marta had donned mourning, and the black of her dress set off her very fair skin and flaxen hair. Several times over the past few days, the woman’s beauty had overwhelmed Ellen. For some reason, Marta’s beauty pinched at her, and Ellen was not proud of that.

From the front of the room, Noah brought his sermon to its end. Then he glanced toward the rear bench.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard about the widow and her sons. Miss Thurston has told me of the many kindnesses shown this bereaved family. I want to thank everyone who has brought food to the schoolhouse for them. And a special thanks to the Ashfords, and to Miss Thurston.”

Mr. Lang translated what Noah said to Marta, who whispered back to him. Mr. Lang rose. “Mrs. Bollinger says thank you everyone for your kindness in her loss. She told me her husband has a cousin in New Glarus. That was where they were headed. She still wants to go there. I think she will need someone to go with her.” Mr. Lang sat down.

The thought that he might volunteer stung Ellen, and she wrestled her feelings under control.

“Thank you, Mr. Lang. Please tell Mrs. Bollinger we’ll figure out who will go with her—”

Gunther surprised Ellen by rising. “I can take her. I speak her language.” The young man reddened as he spoke.

“Thank you for offering,” Noah said. “We will discuss this with Mr. Lang and Mrs. Bollinger. Let’s pray.”

Soon everyone had spilled out into the schoolyard to enjoy the sunny October day and to tender their condolences to Marta. Ellen stood near the widow. She couldn’t stop herself from watching Kurt translating for Marta. The two stood so close. Ellen tried to quiet her edginess. What was it she was feeling? Could it possibly be...jealousy?

Finally, everyone finished offering sympathy through Mr. Lang. The Ashfords had invited Ellen and her guests to Sunday dinner. Kurt and Gunther headed home. Though stung over Kurt leaving without speaking directly to her, Ellen walked with her guests to the General Store and up the familiar back staircase.

When they entered the upstairs quarters, Mrs. Ashford called for Ellen to help her. Ellen left Johann with the Bollingers and entered the kitchen. “How can I be of help?”

Mrs. Ashford motioned for her to come close and whispered into her ear, “I have come up with the perfect solution for Mrs. Bollinger and her sons.”

“Oh?” Ellen whispered, too.

“Mr. Lang should propose to her.”

Ellen gasped, shards of surprise shooting through her. Her first instinct was to insist that it was a terrible, terrible idea. But she found she could not utter a word.

“I know it’s not the usual. But just think—when will another Dutch woman come to Pepin? Mr. Lang would have a wife who understands him and three more sons to help with the work.”

Ellen, reeling from this unpleasant shock, turned her back to Mrs. Ashford. She knew it was rude but without a word, she went to the dining table and sat.

The meal went by in a blur. Ellen struggled against the ugly undertow of jealousy, her cheeks flushed and warm. She’d experienced this same resentment and shock the first time Holton had come calling and taken Cissy out for a stroll instead of her. And now she faced it again.

Why am I feeling this way? I don’t intend to marry. Mr. Lang has made no advances toward me. This is too foolish for words. I refuse to feel this way.

Her turbulent emotions paid absolutely no heed.

“Did you notice how Gunther offered to help Mrs. Bollinger?” Amanda asked.

Ellen came back fully into the flow of conversation. Amanda’s parents had pokered up so Ellen replied, “Yes, Gunther is very thoughtful.”

“Yes, he is,” Amanda stated with emphasis.

Then Marta spoke to Johann, and Johann turned to everyone and said, “Mrs. Bollinger would like to know if there is any way she could travel south on the river with her wagon and team. It would be quicker and safer than by land. I can tell,” Johann added, “she wants to go to her family soon.”

“That’s understandable,” Mr. Ashford said. “Tell her that barges dock here sometimes. She must be packed and ready.”

“Does she have funds for the fare?” Mrs. Ashford asked.

The widow replied that she had some funds left.

The rest of the dinner passed with conversation about the weather, the rising prices, the news of unrest in the South between blacks and whites. Would the trouble between North and South ever end? Ellen tried to participate in a normal fashion but couldn’t concentrate. Images of Mr. Lang leaning close to Marta bedeviled her.

Afterward, Johann and the boys went outside to wade in the shallows near shore, looking for shells. Claiming William, Marta settled into the rocking chair—holding the baby seemed to soothe her sorrow. And Ellen saw Amanda slip away, having a good idea of whom she was going to meet. Gunther.

As Ellen helped Mrs. Ashford by drying the dishes, the storekeeper’s wife wore a deep frown. Ellen surmised she was worried about Amanda and Gunther, too. But her next words took Ellen by surprise.

“I know you think my idea of Mr. Lang marrying this widow is foolish, but it isn’t.”

Ellen nearly dropped the gilt-edged china plate she was drying. “Why would you think she would remarry so soon?”

“I know she is recently bereaved but marriages of convenience happen all the time. I mean, when will another Dutch woman come through for Mr. Lang to marry?”

Ellen startled herself by speaking her mind. “You think then that no English-speaking woman would marry Mr. Lang?” Heat flashed through Ellen at her own words.
Why did I say that?

“Well, most American women don’t want to marry foreigners.”

Ellen struggled, holding back words.

“I mean, yes, he is very good-looking, but that accent.” Mrs. Ashford shook her head as she scrubbed another dish within an inch of its life.

“I don’t think Marta has any desire to marry anybody.” In the midst of her own upheaval, Ellen tried to say the words as unemotionally as she could.

“Well, I will tell you my mother’s story. She was orphaned at only thirteen when both her parents died,” Mrs. Ashford said. “She had three younger brothers to provide for. When a neighbor much older than she offered marriage and a home for her brothers, she accepted. Sometimes a woman does what she must for her family.”

Ellen heard the fierceness in Mrs. Ashford’s voice. “She was very brave.”

“Yes, and the marriage turned out to be a good one. I loved my father and my older uncles. You may think I’m unfeeling but life isn’t always pretty and polite.”

Ellen touched the woman’s shoulder. “You’re right, of course. Life throws us surprises, both pleasant and unpleasant.” The words vibrated in Ellen’s mind.

“I just hope that Amanda comes to her senses. Ned and I see how she moons over that Dutch boy.”

“His name is Gunther.” Ellen maintained a calm tone. “And don’t girls fall in and out of calf love many times? She’s only fourteen. Surely you’ve seen how Gunther is turning into a fine young man.”

Mrs. Ashford paused in her scrubbing. “I hope you’re right.”

Ellen bit back all she wanted to say in favor of Gunther. She knew that telling people what they should think and how they should feel never prospered. Besides, given all the turmoil she was experiencing herself this afternoon, she was in no position to lecture anyone.

She wondered what Mr. Lang would think of the possibility of a marriage of convenience with Marta Bollinger. She closed her eyes in denial. The very thought of it caused her stomach to clench.

Chapter Fourteen

F
or late October, the Monday was golden and balmy. Ellen even had a few of the school windows open. So unfortunately for her state of mind, she could hear Mr. Lang and Marta speaking German as he helped her load the wagon with her belongings. The sound of them chatting in a language she couldn’t understand grated on her nerves. She hated this evidence of weakness and worked hard not to reveal it. After everything that Mrs. Bollinger had been through, she deserved kindness, not jealousy.

She brought her attention back to the third graders, who were practicing adding and carrying over on their slates. “Add 12 plus 19,” Ellen instructed. “Raise your hand when you have the answer.” Johann coughed and then sneezed in the first-grade row.

Tomorrow morning, early, Gunther and one of Old Saul’s grandsons would travel with the Bollingers to New Glarus. With the weather getting colder, Marta had decided not to wait upon the chance of a barge arriving. Ellen was furious with herself for being glad that the widow was leaving. Jealousy was such a lowering emotion.

Johann coughed again.

“Dorcas, please tell us the answer.” Ellen glanced out the window as Mr. Lang and Marta, both smiling, tried to fit one more thing on the wagon. They were smiling. She swallowed down her unworthy response.

“31?” Dorcas, the daughter of the new homesteading family replied.

“Yes. Now, children, 27 plus 18.” The sound of chalk on slates gave sound to the irritation she was experiencing over Mr. Lang helping Marta.

Johann coughed a third time, and she glanced his way and paused. He appeared flushed. She didn’t want to call attention to him, but a faint worry nudged her. “Johann, come here, please.”

He obeyed.

She touched his forehead with the back of her wrist and felt heat. “Johann, you may have a fever. Did you feel warm this morning?”

He shook his head. “No, miss.” He coughed again.

She was irritated with herself.
If I had not been concentrating on my own ridiculous emotions, I would have noticed this earlier.
“Go sit on the far side of the room, please.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

“No, Johann, but you may be contagious.”

He looked confused, but went to sit on one of the empty benches. The children in the room became restless. Ellen decided to assess the situation. She went from child to child, touching their foreheads. Three other children, including Marta’s oldest son, also felt warm. A presentiment of coming trouble draped itself over her mind.

All the students looked worried now, glancing to brothers and sisters.

To avoid igniting fear, she must be firm. “Children, I need to take the temperatures of these students. Please work quietly on the assignments I gave your class for this evening.”

The sound of worried whispering followed her as she walked swiftly into her quarters. From her trunk, she brought out a large, leather-bound book, a medical dictionary of symptoms and treatments. She located her medical kit and turned back toward the schoolroom.

“Miss Thurston?” Mr. Lang had halted just outside the door to her quarters. “Is something wrong? You look worried.”

She gazed at him, wishing he had spoken to her not only because she must look fearful. When had he stopped talking to her as a friend? She pushed down this reaction and her alarm. “I’m not quite sure yet.” She moved swiftly back into the classroom, acting as if she weren’t aware that Mr. Lang had followed her to the connecting doorway. On her desk she set up the thermometer and poured alcohol into a glass vial in a metal stand.

She spoke to the isolated children. “I am going to take your temperatures. Have any of you seen a thermometer before?” She held it aloft.

All heads swiveled to see it.

“What does it do, miss?” Johann asked, sounding fearful.

“First of all, a thermometer tells what a person’s body temperature is. If a person’s temperature is above 98.6, that means a fever. Now, I am going to slip the glass cylinder into your mouth and under your tongue and wait five minutes. It doesn’t hurt. Just make sure you don’t bite it.”

“I should go home,” Dorcas said, rising. “My mama told me to come right home if anybody got sick in school. I don’t want to catch anything—”

“Sit down!” Ellen ordered as others rose, too. “I am merely taking temperatures. There will be order here.”

The children sat down, but the atmosphere became agitated with worry.

Ellen proceeded to take Johann’s temperature, watching the wall clock tick toward a full five minutes. She forced herself not to glance toward Kurt, still standing in the connecting doorway, silently observing her every move.

After the longest five minutes in her recent history, she withdrew the glass stick and read the rainbowlike mercury—100.2 degrees. Not allowing her dismay to show, she shook down the thermometer, immersed it in the vial of alcohol, and then went to the next child.

By the time she’d finished, she’d become completely and dreadfully certain that some contagion had invaded her classroom. She forced her lungs to inhale and exhale evenly. Yet she couldn’t regulate her galloping heart.

She looked at all of the feverish children. They were coughing, had runny noses and inflamed eyes. Could this be just the common cold? She moved to her desk and opened the large medical dictionary she’d brought with her. The near silence magnified the dry ruffling sound turning each page caused.

She opened to the section of childhood illnesses and read quickly through the various collections of symptoms. Mr. Lang moved into the room just behind her and stood watching the children, supporting her decree for order.

After reading, she walked back to the isolated children. “Johann, will you open your mouth, please?”

Small red spots dotted the inside of Johann’s mouth, and the mouths of the others. Dread sent gooseflesh up her arms.

Measles.

There was no doctor in this town. And even if there had been, no cure for measles existed. She tried to make her worried mind focus. What should she do next?

“What is it?” Mr. Lang from the front of the room asked.

“I’m afraid that we have an outbreak of measles,” she said as unemotionally as she could.

Dorcas popped up from her seat and ran toward the door.

“Stop!” Ellen commanded, racing after the girl. She caught her shoulder just before she escaped.

“Mama told me if any sickness came to school, to run home,” Dorcas insisted once more, trying to pull free.

“Dorcas, everyone here has already been exposed to measles. If you run home, you might give it to your parents and your two little brothers. Now come back and sit down.”

“Mama said!” The little girl pulled away and dashed through the door.

Ellen tried to catch her but the child escaped. Feeling her pulse throbbing in her temples, Ellen stood at the door to prevent more children from fleeing. Mr. Lang had moved to guard the other doorway. He looked very concerned, just as she must.

Her head spun with all the questions. The children had all been exposed to the disease but it might take days for symptoms to appear. “Children, if I let you go home, you might spread the infection to your families. You could bring hurt to them,” she explained to the strained faces beseeching her.

“Will we be in quarantine?” Amanda asked, sounding frightened.

Quarantine, a terrifying word. How could she quarantine all these children here? She couldn’t care for a roomful of sick children by herself. Her petty concern over Mr. Lang and Marta shamed her.

I should have been concentrating on my students. Did I miss something this morning that I should have caught? Dear Lord, what should I do?

* * *

“Miss Thurston,” Kurt said after several moments of heavy yet restless silence, “I will go tell Noah Whitmore and Mr. Ashford. They will help.”

The schoolteacher looked at him, her hands clasped tightly together. “Thank you, Mr. Lang. An excellent suggestion.” The relief evident in her voice commanded his sympathy.

“I come back soon.” He turned and shut the door, hurrying through her quarters and then outside. Briefly he told Mrs. Bollinger what had happened. She exclaimed and, shutting the tailgate of the wagon, hurried inside, saying she would help the kind teacher.

Kurt went straight to the Ashford’s store. He burst inside and found the proprietor helping two women he recognized vaguely from church. His agitation spurred him but should he speak in front of others?

He removed his hat and nodded politely to the ladies. “Mr. Ashford, may I speak with you a moment, please? The matter is urgent.”

The two women gave him a look as if he’d spoken out of turn, and moved to look at fabric together. Kurt ignored them and strode forward and motioned to the storekeeper to come closer.

“What is it, Lang?” Mr. Ashford was clearly annoyed that Kurt had interrupted a sale.

Kurt lowered his voice. “I have come from school. There is sickness. Miss Thurston needs help.”

“Sickness? What kind?”

“The teacher says maybe measles.” Kurt didn’t know the German word for this illness but Miss Thurston had looked as if it were a bad disease.

Ashford’s face fell and he whispered, “Measles can be deadly, or cause blindness. It is very dangerous.”

Kurt’s insides turned to ice and a roaring swelled in his ears. Johann could die?

The storekeeper turned and said, “Ladies, you must finish your purchases and then I’m closing up.”

The women turned to the proprietor in surprise.

“Miss Thurston thinks there has been an outbreak of measles at the school,” the man explained.

The women gasped. Kurt was frankly surprised that Mr. Ashford had been so plainspoken about the situation.

“Mr. Lang and I will head over to the preacher’s to decide whether quarantine is necessary. I will be closed for the rest of the day.”

The transactions were tied up quickly. The ladies held handkerchiefs over their noses and mouths as they rushed from the store.

Ashford locked the door and flipped the sign to read “Closed.” “We’ll borrow the blacksmith’s nag and cart. Let’s go!”

He paused, then hurried to the bottom of the rear staircase. Quickly he shouted the facts to his wife. “Go to the school and help Miss Thurston! I’ll get Noah Whitmore!”

Within a few minutes, they were heading as fast as the rough trail would allow them, soon rounding the bend to the Whitmore place. Kurt recalled Miss Thurston’s grave expression and how the women in the store had gasped and hurried away.

What
was
measles? Was Gunther in danger as well as Johann?

And what about Miss Thurston? The thought of anything happening to her was more than Kurt could bear. He snapped the reins, encouraging the horse to go faster.

* * *

By the time Ellen glimpsed Kurt, Noah and Mr. Ashford coming through the trees, a few parents already had gathered outside the school door. Had Dorcas told everyone she met? Regardless, the word had spread.

They had to decide whether to quarantine the students or not. She was grateful to see the others arrive. She didn’t feel up to making that decision alone. Mrs. Ashford stood beside her in quiet support.

Noah hurried forward. “Miss Thurston, are you sure your students have measles?”

Grateful for his calm tone, she held up the hefty medical dictionary. “I brought this so I would be prepared for the inevitable. Wherever children gather, contagion can spread. According to this, it certainly sounds as if they have measles.”

“Then our main priority is deciding how to handle this outbreak. Ordinarily we would quarantine any child who showed symptoms. Miss Thurston, does that book tell how long it takes for symptoms to show?”

“Ten to fourteen days. And the disease usually takes the same time to run its course. Also, stricken children should be kept away from the sun or bright light to protect their eyes.” Ellen clasped the heavy book to her as a shield. Mrs. Ashford patted her arm.

“We want to take our children home,” one mother spoke up. “If they stay here with the sick children, they
will
get it.”

Noah’s deep concern and uncertainty showed on his face. Ellen had the sudden urge to weep. Evidently the panic around her was seeping into her own emotions. Or was it something more? Images from the past...a fevered baby in her arms, struggling for breath...

No, no
.
That is in the past.
She wrenched herself back to the present, forcing herself to gain control. She, like everyone else, waited to hear what Noah would say.

“I think each family should decide for themselves whether to leave their child here at school or take the child home,” Noah said at last.

“No!” Ellen objected. “Each parent should consider their younger children. The younger the child, the more chance of...” Fear clogged her throat. She couldn’t go on. When she looked at the faces around her, she realized she didn’t need to say more.

“But you cannot care for so many alone,” Mr. Lang protested.

“Kurt is right,” Noah said. “If anyone decides to leave a child here at the school in quarantine, one of the parents or an older sibling must stay to nurse that child.”

“And I suggest we close the school for regular classes till this has run its course,” Mr. Ashford said. “Personally, I’ve had the measles so I will keep my store open, but only come if you are in real need of something.”

Noah and the other men nodded solemnly. And then Ellen heard, “That’s what we get for letting foreigners into our town.”

Ellen recognized the speaker as one of the men who had opposed her keeping William. She knew people would think what he had just said, though she’d hoped no one would say it aloud.

“We live in a river community,” Noah said in an even tone. “We may never know how this disease came here.”

“Well I for one think it’s clear how the disease came here,” the man said, staring at Mr. Lang. Ellen watched as he met the man’s gaze dead-on.

“Mr. Lang,” she said. “Will you get William for me?” She sensed a ripple move through the assembled crowd. Even Kurt himself looked surprised that she would make such a request after what the man had just said. “He has already been exposed. Tell Mrs. Brawley what’s happened and that I’ll be keeping William home for the foreseeable future. Tell her I’m sorry.” Her voice died in her throat. The thought that she might have infected the Brawley baby crushed her.